by Jan Sumner
Chapter 24
He stared at the old photos, then the new. He couldn’t help but see the resemblance. That terrifying night flooding back into his mind. Zane pulling at his foot until his sock came off, suddenly he was free. He remembered that face, the face of Satan. And now, here it was again, looking back at him from photos taken at the car wreck. There was no doubt in his mind, they were one in the same, but how was this possible? Zane had been dead over thirty-five years.
Mike Hansen was tired, it was late and Nancy would have dinner waiting. He thought about taking the pictures home and then decided it was better left at the office. He’d have plenty of time to work it out tomorrow. Besides it was bringing back chilling old feelings. There was something deeply disturbing here, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know what it was.
He could hear the rustling in the tent, “Dad what are you doing?” The flash of the blade, the face from hell, he was pulling desperately trying to get away, could hear his mother and sister. Zane had a hold of him, dragging him back, he could feel himself weakening, unable to pull away…
He sat up in bed, dripping with sweat, trembling. He hadn’t had that nightmare since he was a little boy. Now it was back, why after all these years?
It was three in the morning so he slipped out of bed and went downstairs. He felt chilled, anxious. He lay down on his side on the couch, wondering. Why now, why would this dream come back…now.
Suddenly, like a bolt of lightening…it hit him. He got up, ran upstairs and took a shower. He had to get to work. No matter that it was 4 a.m. This couldn’t wait.
He arrived at the office running on adrenaline. No one else was in this early, so he would have plenty of uninterrupted time to sort through the material. Part of him was fearful what he might find, but there was a bigger part that had to know. He lined up the pictures, Zane and Matthew Smyth. He stared at them…those eyes, there was no mistaking it, they were the… same.
He rocked back in his chair, trying to piece it together. My God, he thought, could they be related? There was only one way to find out. They’d saved DNA evidence from Smyth in an effort to possibly solve other crimes. He would have to get DNA from Zane to see if there was a match. He knew how to do that and he knew where Zane was buried. It had been reported that Barbara Wilkes had the body moved to North Dakota, but in checking with the construction crews, an empty coffin had been unearthed and reported to the authorities. Suspicious of what might have taken place, the authorities had checked further and found Jack Zane’s body had, in fact, not been moved. He was still buried in Storm Lake.
Now it would simply be a matter of asking Barbara Wilkes if they could exhume the casket and, if she refused, get a court order to do it. But as Mike mulled it all over in his mind, the impact of what he might find, he realized, could be devastating. The townspeople of Storm Lake, believing Zane had been removed, the people of Independence, Kansas finding out a serial killer had in fact fathered hometown sons. But worst of all, Steve Smyth finding out his two sons weren’t his and, Jonathan discovering his father was…Jack Zane.
What if he was wrong? What if there was no relationship and he’d drug all these people through the mud for nothing based only on his hunch. It was still early, no one else in yet. Mike couldn’t help studying the pictures, the similarities, it was uncanny. Deep down something told him he was right, but what if he wasn’t, then what?
He decided he’d pool as much information as he could without exposing what he was doing and then sit down with his superior and discuss it. If he felt it had validity, then he could go forward.
Jonathan had restarted the book, felt differently about it, now that he knew about his brother. It seemed more personal now, Amy was right, he was writing this from the perspective of a victim. Oh, he was part of the victim’s fraternity before, but this was different. Not only was he a victim, he was related to a man who had created victims. It gnawed at him, slowed him down, stifled his ability to write. He would just have to overcome that, he thought, but the Zane grave matter was something else. He decided to call Barbara and feel her out. Not directly ask, but delicately probe. Who knows? Maybe she’d trust him and tell. He made the call.
She answered in her usual low-key manner.
“Barbara, it’s Jonathan Smyth.”
“Oh, yes, Jonathan, how are you?”
“Fine thanks. I was just calling to see how you and Clyde were doing. It had been a while since we last talked and I was thinking about you, and…well just wondering how things were going.”
“Well, we’re staying pretty busy. It’s always slower with winter coming on, but we have plenty to do. How are you doing?”
He sensed this wasn’t going to be easy, maybe impossible, but he thought he’d pursue it a little further.
“Well, I finally finished gathering information for the book and I’ve started writing it. And, thanks again for your help. I don’t know if you know, but my brother…”
“Yes, I heard. I’m so sorry. It’s strange isn’t it, you and I both related to…well you know.”
He’d thought of that, but it had never really hit him till she said it. “Yeah, it sure is. I had no idea when I was there interviewing you that we’d have this in common.
“This is fairly new for me, Barbara, I'm not sure it has completely sunk in.”
“Give it time…it will. Believe me no one will let you forget it.”
She’d told him this before, but it didn’t mean anything then. He was just gathering information, trying to be sympathetic. Now he was looking at it from the other side and it hurt.
“I’m sure you’re right, all the media came calling when they found out. It was hard on my dad, probably like it was on your mother, but we have weathered it for the time being. I’m not sure what effect the book will have on all this.”
“I sense some reluctance, you’re still going to write it aren’t you?”
There was no relief in her voice, Amy was right, her concern was he might not write the book.
“Oh yes, I’m writing the book. This is a story that needs to be told for all our sakes.”
“Good, for a second I thought you might…well, I’m glad you’re going through with it.”
The conversation was warm and friendly and there was a certain chemistry they’d formed, but that was about to be tested. There was no other way, he was just going to have to ask her and hope she understood.
“Barbara, I have a difficult question to ask you. And believe me, I’m only asking because it might have a bearing on the book.”
There was that same uncomfortable pause he’d grown accustomed to when she’d answer questions before.
“Well, alright, what is it?”
“I got a report that Jack’s body was still there in Storm Lake, that in fact you hadn’t moved it. Now before you answer, I want you to know I don’t care, it’s your decision, and whatever you tell me stays right here. If I have to divulge it, I’ll call you first.”
The pause was unbearable, he wasn’t sure for a minute if she hadn’t quietly hung up.
“I don’t quite know what to say Jonathan, you’ve sort of caught me off guard. I guess my first thought is, what makes you think I didn’t have him moved?”
“Well, in all the turmoil of reporters, questions, suspicions, someone brought it to my attention that…well, he was still buried there in Storm Lake. Again, Barbara, I only asked because it could play into the writing of this book.
“If I write he no longer resides there, and that’s incorrect, it will cast doubts on the rest of the facts in the book. Believe me, it’s the only reason I’m asking.”
He knew this would bring a longer than usual pause, but to his surprise she responded quickly.
“I see. Well, I guess that would make a difference in the credibility of the book. Jonathan, it’s just been so difficult, mostly since you brought all this up and then left.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming you, only stating a fact. The people in town got very upset by the attention you brought and were even more upset by what might follow. I had to pacify them and make them think I moved Jack’s body.”
She paused, realizing she’d tipped her hand. Jonathan waited patiently, cognizant of the same thing, but he wanted her to say it.
“I guess you’re going to find out anyway and, I’m sure eventually everyone will. It just seemed to be a quick remedy at the time. I had Clyde and a friend, who was sworn to silence (Jonathan could guess who mums the word was), dig a hole out in the cemetery and pretend they were removing a coffin. We then sent a weighted coffin to my brother Jeffrey and told him to bury it. He was not aware Jack’s body wasn’t in it. I was afraid if he knew the truth, he might wait, and that…well, you know."
“So there you have it and I’m sure all hell’s going to break loose once people here find out, but I’ve dealt with worse."
Well, there it was, the last bit of information he needed. He apologized for having, once more, put her through this and reaffirmed he would keep it to himself as long as possible, certainly until the book came out, although he knew in his heart, the reporter and his gabby brother-in-law, would soon leak the story. He sensed in her telling him…she knew it too.